


Marvey drabbles

by FlyingSaucer



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2018-08-12 02:38:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 5,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7917166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlyingSaucer/pseuds/FlyingSaucer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[lots of feelings and no time, hence tiny not-even-ficlets, because i need to cry about these two somewhere]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**1\. Season six**

Harvey handles Mike’s time in prison exactly as he does everything else: he runs circles around all the bottlenecks, all the people in the line-up, the chain to his goal. It used to be a pleasure; now it’s like a sick habit.

* * *

 

**2\. That you love him**

“When did you know?” Cahill asks him.

Harvey knows exactly what he’s asking, but dodging is habit. “Know what?” he says, looking through the papers on the coffee table in his office.

Cahill gives him a wry look.

* * *

 

**3\. High Noon (2x10)**

He expects Harvey will go back to his condo, sleep off the adrenaline, do whatever it is Harvey Specter does to get back in the game.

Instead it’s this, Harvey’s tongue, Harvey’s hands, Harvey who showed up at his door, and a distant part of him thinks these aren’t the best circumstances but he can’t let him go even if he wanted to.

* * *

**4\. All In (2x06)**

“Don’t ever speak to me of this again,” Harvey drawls fondly (only Harvey can drawl fondly) when the car stops. He turns slightly, leans forward, and plucks Mike’s sad bow-tie loose in one easy flick.

Mike is a smartass all the way through the next minute, and Harvey does his usual mix of eye rolls, faces expressing what a pain in his ass Mike is, and verbal slam dunks with movie quotes thrown in as he works. If his deft fingers linger a few seconds too long under the fabric and if Mike’s breathing speeds up just some when they brush against his throat, both of them studiously do not register it.


	2. Chapter 2

**5\. After prison**

It occurs to Harvey in the middle of one night as he stares up at the ceiling, alone in his bed, that Mike isn't even as smart as Harvey thinks he is, let alone how much Mike thinks he is himself. He’s _intelligent_ , probably more intelligent than the rest of the entire human population, but he’s not... _smart._ He’s like narrow AI, he needs things spelled out for him.

Because why else would he not understand what’s right in front of him, what everyone else understands?

* * *

**6\. The beginning to a pwp apparently**

Pinned to the wall, Harvey’s hands holding his wrists above his head like some kind of music video, shower spray cascading down between them. Harvey kissing his way up his throat, the contrast between the cool water and the heat of Harvey’s mouth against his skin making Mike shiver. If you’d asked him a year ago when he’d stumbled into that swanky conference room where he thought he’d be a year from now, he’d have said probably prison. He’s very glad he’d have been wrong.

“You’re not supposed to be thinking so much when I’m doing this to you,” Harvey growls, pulling away.

* * *

**7\. Beginning for Harvey-and-Mike-meet-earlier AU**

If Mike had let it go the night of the frat party, he’d have found himself dealing with a desperate Trevor, a guilty conscience and all his dreams crashing and burning over one stupid test and a vengeful old man.

But the guy’s smirk as Trevor tried to drag him away was a shade too similar to the night of Mike’s first run-in with him, the same class of douchebag Nick Rinaldi fell in, and Mike had probably chugged one cup too many. He knew he shouldn’t, knew Harvard was only a few days away, knew he’d soon be leaving all of this behind, but guys like this were everywhere, and Mike was just so fucking done with backing down.

* * *

**8\. Beginning for Harvey's-not-a-canon-idiot-and-his-actions-are-consistent-with-his-character AU**

Because Harvey’s not a goddamn idiot, he hires Mike as a consultant, not an associate, and thereby avoids committing fraud. Harvey likes winning, but he likes winning fair. He also likes not breaking the law for no good reason, and definitely likes not breaking it on a whim, because that would be fucking stupid. That’s not how he got where he is, and he likes where he is.

Mike has a tough time at first, he knows. The associates (and Louis, and a few of the partners) are losing their shit at the concept of anyone unbaptized by Harvard Law sitting anywhere above a paralegal. It actually takes a while for the whole ‘he didn’t even finish college’ thing to get out because they can’t think past ‘didn’t go to HLS’.

* * *

**9\. Beginning for running-with-PJA's-spec-that-Mike-could-be-a-PI-for-PSL-after-prison fic**

The only requirements to become a licensed private investigator in the State of New York are three years of full time experience under another licensed PI and a high school diploma. This time around, Mike sticks to the law completely and it’s hilarious because now it’s on him to root out when and how other people don’t.

He works for Vanessa, of course, who’s happy to give him Harvey’s cases, especially since Harvey suddenly seems to have a ton that need nosing into, more than usual. Mike is a natural, and it doesn’t even rankle when she makes cracks about how the puppy (he’s a 31 year old man, what the fuck) will be an incredible bloodhound someday.

He doesn’t even know...well, he does, he does know how things fall apart with Rachel, but it still baffles him.


	3. Chapter 3

**10\. Coda to s1 finale**

Between the afternoon when they greet Clifford as he walks out a free man and the evening that same day when Jessica tells Mike they should have dinner, they stop for bagels and coffee. It’s all they have time for because there’s a client meeting later, but Harvey tells Ray they’ll walk from here and they bask in the food, the sunshine, and the satisfaction of a job well done as they do.

Except there’s a sour note Harvey can’t shake. Really can’t, he wants to but he doesn’t know how, it’s why it’s there in the first place. But he thinks it’s time to give it another try.

“So we totally lost that bet.” He almost _winces_ as he says it, Jesus, this Cameron thing’s regressing him to reactions from his 20s.

Mike looks at him, mouth full, cheeks puffed out like a hamster, and Harvey fights down a smile. The look Mike gives him is sober and level, however, which is an improvement on the hangdog face he was wearing after Louis walked out that day.

* * *

  **11\. Crackficlet, three times Mike called Harvey 'Honey'**

 

(i) “Honey, I’m home,” Mike calls, letting his voice lilt in the way he knows will make Harvey roll his eyes and smile.

 

(ii) “Honey, could you…” Mike begins, and freezes. Harvey gives him that finely honed _you’re-a-dumbass_ look, eyes impassive. But his mouth, on the side the client can’t see, is twitching up in a way Mike knows well. “Harvey,” Mike corrects himself. “I…‘Honey’, ‘Harvey’, slip of the tongue,” he says, directing it at Harvey, even though it’s for the benefit of the client. At least his red face helps the impression that he’s embarrassed in front of his boss, not because he slipped up.

“Do you see him as a boyfriend figure, Mr. Ross?” Mrs. Dickens says in what she thinks is a knowing way, laughing off the awkward pause.

Mike chokes out a laugh too. “Brooklyn Nine-Nine, that’s good!”

Harvey, consummate smooth motherfucker, continues the discussion as if nothing happened.

 

(iii) “Hi, honey,” he says softly, as Harvey’s eyes open, anesthetic wearing off.

Harvey focuses on him, smiles, eyelids drooping shut again. “Hey, sweetheart.”

* * *

  **12\. Last scene of the S3 finale**

In the dimmed lights of the bullpen and the blue light from the Pearson Specter login screen on Mike’s computer, he looks kind of otherworldly. Harvey doesn’t do maudlin, but since when does it matter what he does or doesn’t do, when it comes to Mike?

And that’s the whole problem, isn’t it.

Otherworldly. But skinny, still so skinny, as if he still subsists on ramen instead of the artisan meals he and Rachel surely cook up. He doesn’t smell like sweat, exactly, but something from the interrogation room clings to him. Hair still stupid. His eyes are serious, dark and clear, as they look down at Harvey.

He’s standing not half a foot away, right in front of him. Harvey could reach out, wrap a hand around his wrist, reel him in, and have him right in the frame of his legs. He could pull on that wrist with the lightest of pressures, raise his chin and meet Mike’s mouth with his own, the angle soft and perfect. Whatever Mike would say, he imagines his voice wouldn’t be much different from the hushed, low pitch it’s at now. Maybe it’d be more raspy.

“Mike,” he says.

“No, just…” Mike holds out a hand. “Let me finish.” Harvey lets him.


	4. Chapter 4

**13\. Season 4a. This began as something else and became "'Character Analysis of Mike Ross' by: Harvey Specter", apparently.**

“I don’t let Tony Gianopolous push me around. You think I’m going to let Mike Ross?”

He means it, too. That little punk. Harvey contemplates grabbing him and...he doesn’t even know. That swagger’s setting him on edge. Not to mention the fucking vest.

 

_Vests? Really?_

 

Harvey’s going to make the kid eat his own tie. The blue one. It goes with his eyes. Is Rachel dressing him? Harvey catches himself drumming his fingers on his knee. Well, you can’t blame him, he’s used to being out picking up the next ‘morning meeting’ this point in the day.

In his shitty office, Mike mirrors his tone, rolling a pen between restless fingers, then sidles up to him, playful. “I went ahead and signed one for you.”

Harvey’s already drawing battle lines in his head and Mike’s answering grin tells him he is too. His muscles don’t exactly bunch in preparation but there’s a crackling awareness in his brain he hasn’t felt since the last time he faced off with Scottie, and for the first time in weeks the reminder doesn’t hurt.

*

Rachel tries to do some bizarre role reversal line and it is not as endearing on her as it would be on Mike.

Then she tells him about her history with Logan Sanders, and he only cares insofar as it’s going to distract Mike. He wants the worthy opponent this little set-up was promising, to show the kid he still own his ass even at his best.

The settlement looks like it’s going great, exaggerated politeness between _his_ opponent and his client aside, and then it all goes to hell.

Oh, Mike, Harvey thinks, as the last paper drifts to the floor.

 

_Give me permission to go._

 

He’d miscalculated, thought the kid would’ve picked up a few things in that other tank besides the vests. But he’s still Mike, still picking some distant cause over himself or anyone he knows, recklessly throwing his entire lot and heart in it, and then telegraphing his idiotic intentions for everyone to hear. Harvey should’ve known.

(Two years from now, he’ll do the same with prison and Kevin’s life, and Harvey will shake his head and take it).

Harvey uses it. Of course he uses it. That’s what he does and he’s not inclined to make an exception right now, even if his client’s an asshole he’ll find a way to make pay later. It’s still Harvey’s case and therefore a priority over anything else; he is nothing without his track record. And Mike meets his move again and Harvey smiles, thinks he might not have to gift him _The Art of War_ once all this is done, after all.

And then, son of a bitch, he almost knocks it out of the park with the TRO right in front of Harvey’s face, the raw advantage of that perfect memory finally comes into play, and Harvey thinks _he_ might have to revisit _The Art of War_.

*

His asshole client’s about to shoot Mike in the face so Harvey, sick to his stomach, goes for the knees. And Mike comes back, snarling, claws out swiping at his heart with the tapes and Harvey’s had it up to here with this mess that shouldn’t have existed in the first place.

Later, he gives them back, even though he’s still got his knees out from under him with Gillis thanks to Harvey. Apparently his girlfriend stopping her ex aiming at his face makes him docile. Harvey wonders when he bought them, if it was before Gillis dropped him, if he’d meant to give them to him anyway.

 _I made you_ , he’d told him and Mike had been furious, but Harvey wasn’t lying. He did this. Both gave him this life, and this catch-22. He could’ve sent him to school, the way Jessica did him. He didn’t. _I told you to move somewhere nobody_ _ever knew you,_ he’d said. He’d also said, _Someone’ll know someone, and it’ll all be for nothing. You get to go toe-to-toe with the best there is. Hold on tight and enjoy the ride._ Mike’s current position, his desperation to grab onto anything, do anything, because there’s nowhere else to go, not really, that’s all on Harvey.

 

_I’m tired of putting the people I care about in jeopardy._


	5. Chapter 5

**13\. (cont'd because I have no restraint with pov fic apparently)**

 

When Mike pulls one over on Louis with Sheila Sazs and Lorenzo Lamas circa 1998 - (Look, you don’t need to know anything about how he knows the exact year, except that the reason is more awesome than you can conceive of, ‘kay?) - Harvey blows up at Louis, because the alternative is hysterical laughter. When did he walk into this demented, funnyville alternate reality, exactly?

He’s less amused when Louis fucks up _again_ and ends up driving Mike to Forstman. He’s not blind, he sees Louis isn’t dangling by many threads, he even knows Mike might have gotten there himself without his help, but he can’t bring himself to give a shit. Because once again, none of this is even near how it should be, there’s not a damn thing Harvey can do about it, and part of the reason it _is_ like this is sitting right in front of him. Later Harvey will go to Mike who’ll glare at him again and _not listen_ , and he’ll ask Mike back in not so many words and Mike will take it as an insult to his ability. For now, Harvey’s just tired of being surrounded by incompetence.

It’s why he doesn’t give Rachel the day off. Apart from the fact that he’s still pissed off from this morning. _You came here to give yourself a way out_ . And not the one Harvey already offered him yesterday. He never even needed a way in in the first place. _But I also care about my life with Rachel,_ Donna told him Mike had said. Well, she helped Mike out of the firm, she sure as hell can pick up the slack.

They’re back in the game with the auction and Harvey’s ready to do the equivalent of holding what Mike wants over his head and watching in amusement as he jumps for it; and then Rachel passes out.

Mike is frantic and looks borderline terrified, and Harvey _feels_ like an asshole. It’s different from just knowing he’s one. So he hits pause, and takes the kid out to dinner.

“You did what you had to do,” he tells Mike over steak and it’s a relief to finally see something land. Harvey watches him, the new awareness in Mike that wasn’t there a few months ago, before he deliberately manipulated a friend, and feels something settle behind his own ribs. Much as he’d enjoyed the man-child that held his hand up for high-fives and didn’t own a comb, that Mike didn’t always know the difference between Sesame and Wall Street. This one does, can understand things Harvey hasn’t told him yet.

And when this is over, Harvey will find a way to make things right.

*

He knows the choice Mike’s forcing on him is about Rachel, but when he looks across at him, that’s not what it feels like, and how could Harvey not choose him, after everything?

*

Forstman screwed them all over, and it’ll be a while before Harvey connects the dots between the SEC breathing down their necks and him, before he knows he’s been screwed over too. In the meantime, he technically wins this one although only because somewhere in the clusterfuck the dice fell in his square, not because of anything he did, he knows that. He couldn’t give a shit, this game was abandoned the moment Jessica bought those shares. What’s more important is that somewhere in the clusterfuck, Mike came back. And maybe if he hadn’t been hurting over Rachel and being dogged by Forstman, it would’ve been better for him not to; to instead find a better and a real alternative. But Harvey’ll admit he’s selfish, he knows he’s an asshole, after all and he’s glad (not downright giddy. Not excited like a kid on Christmas morning the day Mike comes back. At all.) it turned out this way.


	6. Chapter 6

**14\. Incomplete post-6a finale boxing fic**

It begins when Mike’s acting as ‘consultant’ on pro bono cases (per Mike’s own request). Harvey doesn’t need Donna to tell him what’s going on or to tell him to distract Mike, he can see it well enough himself. Mike and Rachel don’t leave together; they look away into the distance when they pass each other in the halls, and Rachel won’t touch the pro bonos. Except not as cut and dry as that - it happens one day, the next they’re back to normal. A week later it happens again, lasts three days, then they work it out over the weekend or something, and then a month later, there’s the frost again. Harvey’s past pretending he doesn’t care about Mike, but he still doesn’t feel comfortable asking. So when he can’t stand the tense set of Mike’s shoulders, the pinched line of his mouth and the lack of joking around anymore, he says, “Wanna box it out?”

Harvey congratulates himself on his great idea when he takes out brand new supplies from his bag in the gym on Saturday morning, and Mike looks amused, the morose cloud that he arrived in dissipating a little.

“Did you go shopping for me?” he says, tossing the mouth guard up and down.

“Online order, only because sharing equipment is disgusting and you, once-wannabe-wrestler, wouldn’t know a thing about boxing and what to get.”

Mike laughs that _bring-it-on_ laugh of his. “You know wrestling is one of the oldest sports in history and began _way_ before boxing, right?”

“Yeah, at carnivals and circuses,” Harvey scoffs, eagerly waiting for the rejoinder, but Mike just smiles at the ground and shakes his head. Not distracting enough yet, then. Harvey picks up his own handwrap, gestures to Mike’s, and guides him through the wrapping process.

  


“What, we’re not even going to be doing any punching?” Mike asks as Harvey leads him past the bags. His eyes bug out kinda hilariously when Harvey holds out the jump rope. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Boxing’s a full-body exercise, you need the right footwork.”

“My footwork’s fine!”

“Oh yeah? Alright hotshot, let’s try the bags.”

When Mike manages to smack his face into one while trying to juggle Harvey’s ‘jab, now duck, jab, jab, left, right hook’ commands, he agrees to go with the rope, grumbling about wrestling demanding a different center of gravity. Harvey just grins and shows him how jumping rope doesn’t mean looking like a little girl.

  


Things seem to be going fine with Rachel, but they don’t stop with the boxing sessions, having built up the momentum. They’ve worked at the bags and Mike’s excited when Harvey tells him to put on the gloves, that they’re going in the ring. He makes a face at the mouth-guard though: “You’re not wearing one.”

“I don’t unless I’m really going at it with a trainer. Besides, I’m not going to be sparring with you at all.”

Mike looks confused, but puts the blue plastic in his mouth anyway, and Harvey nonchalantly tells him he doesn’t look completely ridiculous in favor of ignoring what feels like an adrenaline rush in his veins.

It isn’t until Mike’s in the ring, seeing there’s no trainer, and Harvey tells him he’s going to call out the sequence that he puts two and two together. He pulls the guard out indignantly and demands, “You think I’m going to punch _myself_ in the face?”

Harvey laughs.

  


Mike tells him one week, in between jabs at the bag Harvey’s holding still while directing him, that he’s leaving Pearson Specter Litt to go work for a non-profit that needs legal expertise so badly they don’t care if it comes from a felon. Harvey feels his shoulders drop, and the bag wobbles a bit, before he grips it again.

Mike cuts him off before he can open his mouth, “Don’t try and argue me out of it, Harvey. It’s so Rachel and I can stay together.” His eyes are fixed on the bag and Harvey can feel the vibrations of the hits reverberate up his own arms.

He shakes his head. “How’s that, Mike?”

Mike sighs, backing off, heading off to the wall for his bottle of water, and Harvey follows. He smells like deodorant and sweat, a thick musk that hangs in the air. “We can’t stop arguing if we’re working on the same cases, or even related cases...or even related clients,” he says quietly, once he’s drank half the bottle, lips wet. “She thinks I think she can’t handle them, but it’s not that, it’s…”

“You want to help,” Harvey finishes for him, leaning against the wall.

Mike nods, fiddling with the cap, tapping it against a palm wrapped in black cloth. “She’s brilliant, and I want to be there when she needs someone to turn to, and the only way to do that is...not to be there the rest of the time.”

Harvey exhales, long and slow. “Okay,” he says, pushing off against the wall. “We’ll wrap up the Haley filings next week and get you out of there by the next Monday. Now enough slacking, get back here.”

Mike grins, that boyish way he he hasn’t seen in years, and follows.

  


Harvey tries not to resent Rachel, or at least not to let it show, but Jessica and Mike aren’t there to take the edge off and Louis is weirdly mellow ever since the engagement to Tara and won’t respond to Harvey’s baiting. Donna tells him just because Rachel gets it, it doesn’t mean dumping the busywork on her is okay, but he glares until she rolls her eyes and leaves him to it.


	7. Chapter 7

15\. **Beginning to a Mike-never-existed-or-did-he weird fic (idk I was listening to Saturn by Sleeping At Last and got strange feelings)**

“Give me a wink if they say something clever,” he tells Donna. The day goes by, and she only has head shakes of every variety in her acting arsenal for him, and even those become despairing and tired and subdued as the day wears on.

When the last groupie’s gone, bland and entitled like all the rest of them, Harvey emails Jessica — not texts, she’ll have more interviews set up before you can say Lexington and he’d rather postpone that for as long as possible — that it was a bust and packs up for the day. Donna tells him she’ll just meet him here tomorrow as he passes and he rolls his eyes, knowing there’s no disputing that.

He slides into the cushy leather seat of the town car, lets the blues Ray puts on wash over him and blames them and the depressing inanity of the day for the vague sense of loss that hangs around him like a cloud.


	8. Chapter 8

16\. **7a**

It's a rain-soaked night and the city lights reflect in the wet streets outside his window.

Mike's working late, the glow of his computer screen the brightest light source in the dim room as pages fly across the screen under his rapidly scrolling fingers.

Harvey watches him for a second as he walks past the glass wall and then he's at the door, pushing it open with a soft  _shhk_ , and Mike looks up.

It's something else, seeing him behind Harvey's own desk. It doesn't matter that the previous desk is now in Harvey's new office, that this one is from Mike's Junior Partner days. Harvey still thinks of this as his room, just as the Managing Partner's office is still Jessica's. And Mike being behind his desk fills him with warmth, with a sense of rightness.

_It's good to have you back where you belong._

"Good cop, bad cop situation?" Mike asks, one side of his mouth quirked the way it always is when he's being a smartass. Harvey's had more thoughts about what he'd like to do to that smirk than he cares to admit.

"Kind of," Harvey says, considers a moment and adds (not at all resentfully. Really.), "Unless you've got another Brooklyn housing project to take care of."

Mike laughs and leans back in his chair, rubbing at his eyes. "Nope. After that last one, I think we're at one for me, ten for you."

"Try a hundred," Harvey murmurs, and off Mike's little head shake, says, "Seriously though, if there's something else that's going to keep you tied up, I want you to have time for it. Just let me know first."

"Thanks Harvey, but it's all taken care of." Mike smiles up at him, and Harvey has a little flashback to when Mike still worked in the bullpen.  _I do them in my spare time._

Satisfied, he sits in front of his own desk and tells Mike his plan for their next coup. Or tour de force. Or just play. Depends on how you look at it.

 

It takes a few months before Mike stops asking why Harvey needs him on cases he could probably do on his own, before he stops either looking confused or visibly rearranging his mental schedule to make time for Harvey on whatever save-the-world spree he's on now, but once he does, Harvey's chest physically feels cool with relief. Mike is back, really back; and okay, he won't say his world is finally tilted right on its axis again, because he's not a pussy, but a big part of the jigsaw is in its place. He can admit that.


	9. Chapter 9

**17\. S1**

They’re arguing about something or the other, some legal intricacy, too heated to pay attention to where they’re going, and Mike almost steps into the street against the light. Harvey grabs his arm and pulls him back, not even breaking sentence as he explains his point. It’s the first time Harvey’s touched him, and Mike almost laughs at his own reaction while outwardly keeping his ears on Harvey’s words. A _jolt_. An actual electric-feeling jolt. He’d known he was attracted to this man the moment Harvey had looked up from all those bags of weed with raised eyebrows two weeks ago, but an actual _jolt_.

He’s so fucked.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lmao one of these days I will actually finish something I start, and on that day I'll post it separately, but this is not that day

**18\. Bike messenger AU, or _We've Got to Stop Meeting Like This_**

**** The first time, it’s because it’s sleeting and still almost pitch black, and traffic is so backed up that Harvey leaves the town car when he’s a block away and walks it. He’s squinting, focused on the cross light he’s approaching as he gets close to the edge of the sidewalk, and so he misses noticing the bike stand and the bike messenger angling for it until it’s just a split second too late. Harvey swerves out of the way, escaping with a graze to a trouser leg. The messenger isn’t so lucky, having kicked out a leg to brake and collapsed into a puddle of slush as a result. 

“Oh, fuck,” the kid groans, muffled. Harvey mentally agrees as he hurries around to help him up, the cars next to them honking half-heartedly as they struggle with the bike, the cold and their gloved fingers making it take twice as long. 

“Are you okay?” he asks the guy once they're done, stepping back, rain pouring off the sides of his umbrella. Weary blue eyes look up at him from under the bike helmet and above the neck gaiter pulled up to protect his face, with the exact combination of early-morning  _ I’m not fully awake yet  _ and  _ why the fuck isn’t it a snow day  _ Harvey and everyone else on this street is feeling. 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might actually expand this one? But I'll probably need a beta reader -- message me if you're interested!

**18. _Pacific Rim_ AU [More an outline than a ficlet]**

“Apparently they’ll never understand walls are bad ideas,” Jessica says, staring at the phone thoughtfully.

“That was Stacker Pentecost,” she tells him, and Harvey feels his face go blank, the poker face coming down like an automatic garage door, reflex.

**

“You should check Section 409 (c).”

“ _I feel the need for speed_ ,” he mutters dramatically, grinning to himself and Harvey fights down a smile of his own.

“Are you sure you’re 26?”

**

Harvey doesn’t even register his own movement, his fist connecting with Tanner’s jaw before he even thinks about it.

**

He finds Harvey sitting in the scaffolding around Gipsy, having had the same instinct Mike did, and he isn’t surprised. Obviously.

**

Mike shrugs, back to Harvey.

“You never said…”

“I know I didn’t.”

Harvey gives a small laugh, but Mike just shakes his head. Just because they’re on the same wavelength doesn’t mean they have to be in the same mood.

It does, however, mean they have to pick up on it, which Harvey proves when he sobers up and comes to stand behind Mike, as Mike can tell from the heat of him against his back, Harvey’s breath on the back of his neck. He puts his hands on Mike’s waist and Mike’s breath hitches, and then Harvey’s lips are on the side of his neck, gentle, slow.

**

Mike collapses, and Harvey’s heart stops for a second.

“I’m fine, old man.”

**

“This is it.” 

Mike turns his head, smiles at him, holds his gaze. “I’d do it all again.”

Harvey unbuckles, and Mike mirrors him as always. He moves, climbing against the slope, takes Mike’s hand, coming to standing in front of him, as Mike tries to extend the buckle as much as he can, trying to get it long enough that it can wrap around them both. Harvey chuckles.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've given up on trying to get over this stupid show. I just live here now.

**19\. Trying to see what happens when you make Harvey the[Robin](http://candyumbrella.tumblr.com/post/163837673611/i-said-in-this-previous-post-about-shipping-on-tv) (flashfic)**

 

When he looks at the man in the conference room, his fake identity flies out of his head. “Wow, you’re gorgeous,” he says instead, when the man shakes his hand, and the man raises his eyebrows.

“Donna wasn’t kidding,” he replies, withdrawing his hand and tucking it in his pocket. “Is that really how you want to start this interview?”

“I...no, I’m sorry,” Mike says, shaking himself. “Um, Rick Sorkin?” He can’t help it from sounding like a question, because really it is.

The man gives him a nod and a little speculative look, and replies, “Harvey Specter, nice to meet you. Why don’t you have a seat here?” he tilts his head at a chair, and Mike takes a step forward and the briefcase pops open.

Harvey Specter doesn’t even say anything this time, just looking between the bags of weed and Mike. 

Mike wants to die.

 

Mike doesn’t want to admit he flirts his way through their “interview” but he really does. Also shows off a lot. Did he mention Harvey’s gorgeous?

He wouldn’t though, if he thought it was making Harvey uncomfortable. But it’s the opposite -- Harvey looks amused as hell. And he’s showing off, too. Mike’s just a little giddy and the fact that he’s on the run from the cops, and that his grandmother needs care he can’t afford feel like distant concerns.

Eventually, though, Harvey leans back a little, shaking his head. “I really can’t hire you, you know.”

Mike’s heart drops, and it’s so stupid, but he couldn’t help the way his hopes went up, how it felt like his whole day, his whole life had turned around for those ten minutes. He can’t say anything, and Harvey starts walking away, saying, “I’ll make sure Serpico isn’t around waiting for you,” and Mike has to try and get himself together. But he can’t.

“Wait,” he says, rising to his feet and Harvey turns around with his hand on the doorknob. “What if you hired me as a consultant?”

Harvey drops his hand. “I need an  _ associate _ .”

Mike tucks his hands into his pockets and shrugs mock-innocently. “You’re telling me a Harvard attorney couldn’t spin that?”

Harvey’s mouth twists but his eyes can’t lie -- he’s suppressing a smile. Mike can barely keep from grinning. 

Harvey paces back, slowly, his face growing intent. “You need to answer some questions for me first, and you better answer them honestly or this will be over as soon as I find out you didn’t. And I will find out.”

Mike takes a breath and nods.

Harvey pauses on the other side of the desk. “If you want this so much, why didn’t you just go to law school?”

Mike drops his eyes, but he does as Harvey asked. He tells him the truth. When he looks up, Harvey’s frowning. “That’s such a stupid excuse,” Harvey says.


End file.
